Some time ago I posted a series of four very short pieces under the
collective title Seasons.

Many readers have since written to ask if I would do further such little
vignettes. What follows is one such piece, part of a series titled
Places, based on my own memories of some of my favorite cities and locations
around the world.

Andrew, thank you again for so much help, for good advice, for proofing
and editing and, most of all, for making me look so much better than I
am.

The pink cloud moved and shimmered over the surface of
the lake in the valley below us.

Jeremy stopped the Land Rover just on the crest of the
hill so we could observe the phenomenon. It was unlike anything I'd ever
seen before.

"Is it a mist of some sort?" I asked.

"Flamingos," he smiled, "millions of flamingos."

It was only as we descended to the valley floor and drove
closer to the lake's edge that I really believed him. The birds in vast
numbers bobbed and twirled as they fed in the shallow waters.

Late that afternoon as the African sun began to set and
the oppressive heat subsided, we arrived at the lodge, run by the Kenyan
National Park Service.

We swam in the cool pool and dined at a vast buffet in
the high ceilinged, open beamed restaurant of the lodge. The evening grew
welcomingly cool and when we returned to our room a native woman was lighting
a fire in the fireplace opposite the huge bed.

"Do you want to shower," Jeremy asked as he sat on a low
stool and pulled off his boots.

"You go first," I said. "I want to write a few postcards."

In reality, I wanted him to be the first to get ready
for bed. We'd only met two days before in Nairobi; he was the friend of
a friend, willing to take a few days to show me around, me the wayward
American tourist, not even knowing what to ask to see.

"Leave it to me," he smiled. "I'll be sure you see the
best of Kenya."

Jeremy Broadbank looked the part of a colonial Englishman
in post-colonial Africa. His family had been there for three generations
and, while he spent as much time in London as Nairobi, he knew the country
well. We'd agreed that he'd make the plans and drive his Land Rover. I'd
pay for the hotels and food and petrol.

"What say we share hotel rooms? It will save you a bit
and I'd enjoy the company."

"Fine," I'd agreed, looking at his handsome form and face.
"I'd enjoy the company as well." We were of an age, both twenty-eight,
both single, both doing well in the world. But while I was lighter skinned
and blond, he had chestnut hair and a deep, glowing tan.

We were of almost identical height and weight and equally
athletic build. For the trip we wore almost identical clothes; boots, khaki
shorts and shirts, broad brimmed hats, mine supplied on loan from him.

That night was the first time we'd be sharing a bed and
I had no idea what to expect. Jeremy was masculine in every way but there
had been the odd sideways glance, the lingering smile. I'd wondered. I'd
thought about what Roger Banks, our mutual friend, might have said to Jeremy
about me, although Roger had said nothing to me about Jeremy, other than
that he was "an excellent chap, and old school friend, you know?"

"Fine, then," Jeremy said as he stripped to his white
cotton boxer shorts and went off into the bath. I noticed he didn't shut
the door.

As I wrote my cards I heard the water and his singing,
a lilting baritone. Strains of With Cat-Like Tread gave way to Love is
Stronger than Justice. I got up chuckling and turned off the lights. The
room was filled with a soft glow from the fireplace.

Jeremy came back into the bedroom drying himself. He was
naked.

"I hope you weren't put off by my singing."

"Actually, I enjoyed it. I must say you have a very nice
voice and rather eclectic tastes."

"Thank you, on both counts, I suppose."

"Well, you don't usually hear Gilbert and Sullivan and
Sting on the same program."

He laughed. His body, beautifully toned and beautifully
tanned, glowed in the flickering light.

"Well, the shower is yours." He moved, cat-like, to the
far side of the bed and stretched himself up on tiptoes to loosen the mosquito
netting which hung in a huge knot over the bed. I marveled at his beauty.

I went into the bathroom and undressed. Following Jeremy's
lead, I left the door open. When I finished, still following his lead,
I too returned naked to the bedroom, wondering what, if anything, my roommate
wore to bed. I found him lying on his side, totally nude, propped up on
one elbow as he looked over a map in the dim light of the fire. He'd spread
the huge map over the unoccupied side, my side, of the big bed.

The room had become a little cooler. It would be quite
cool later, I reasoned; a wonderful night for a glowing fire, a wonderful
night to be cuddled next to another warm body.

"You'll ruin your eyes," I said, standing at my side of
the bed running the towel over my back, feeling comfortable with him. He
looked up at me and smiled. Without taking his eyes off me, he folded the
map and slid it out under the netting and put it on the little chest by
his side of the bed.

"I was just looking at our route for tomorrow."

"I gathered," I said as I finished drying myself and hung
the damp towel over the back of a wooden chair.

"Well, this is the first of our five nights together."

"Yes," I smiled, standing there naked, looking though
the netting at his equally bare body.

"I sleep in the buff," he said, his eyes still fixed on
mine. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," I smiled as I lifted the netting on my side
of the bed and lay down next to him.